Ziva.—Art thou again dreaming of something that does not exist?
Prija.—That never did exist and never will?
Ziva.—About a prince, perchance, who flies on a silver steed through the clouds?
Mahulena.—Why do you mock at me? How have I offended you?
Prija.—We are evil, are we not? Evil as witches!
Mahulena.—I have never said to you that you were evil.
Ziva.—But thy glances continually reproach us.
Mahulena.—My heart knows nothing thereof. . . . Ah, do not torture me, sisters. I am sad only because my stag has run off into the forest. The animal was clever and affectionate—and yet it left me. It is evident that it cared not for me. (Weeps.)
Prija.—It is ridiculous to weep for so small a cause. When they catch the stag just have it flogged.
Mahulena.—I would rather suffer those blows myself.
Ziva.—Well then, weep or do not weep, as it pleases thee. But we are going to play now.
Prija.—What shall we play, Mahulena; tell us.
Mahulena.—Play? . . . Truly I know not. Perhaps “Welcome the birds,” if you like.
Prija.—We do not want that; that is for children. I knew that thou wouldst say something out of place. Thou art ever-lastingly a little child with little sense.
Ziva.—Let us play “Swans and peacocks,” that is jolly: then we may chase one another wildly as long as we like.
All.—“Swans and peacocks”—yes, yes!
Prija.—Then now let us divide into rows!
The youths stand on one side, holding hands; the maidens stand opposite them, also holding hands.
Chorvs of Youths (Sings).—
Hoya lalya hoya!
Peacocks we that fly from far,
Hoya lalya hoya!
Where the lakes and wildwoods are,
Hoya lalya hoya!
On this meadow’s dewy breast,
Hoya lalya hoya!
Let us fold our wings and rest:
Hoya lalya hoya!
